Hold Me Tight
by House-less
Summary: Months after Trenton, House sees someone. Huddy.


Here is for a special friend. Joyeux Anniversaire Nounours :*

* * *

Hold Me Tight

The rain was pouring heavily as she slammed her villa's door shut. The house was dark, except for the lights coming from the outside, which were only sufficient for her to see three steps forward. Silence enveloped the place, though she was aware of the presence in it. She thought that the quietude was a sign that they were sleeping, or at least, one of them. She wasn't wrong with her assumption; Rachel wasn't around, which meant that Marina had probably tucked her in to bed before she left. A bitter smile appeared on her lips; she wished she could be around more often.

She put her purse, briefcase and three plastic bags onto the dining room table and decided she'd go kiss her daughter goodnight later, intrigued by the light coming from the living room. She made the few steps that separated the two rooms before she leant on the doorframe, watching him. He was half-lying on the couch, vaguely looking at the TV – a show that she doubted interested him. She smiled at the thought that he had been waiting for her and again, her heart ached a little when she realized how late it was, and how little time she spent with him, too.

"You're late," she heard him saying, awakening from her daze. She didn't feel a reproach in the tone of his voice, though; it comforted her.

"Hey," she softly murmured, approaching the couch.

"Hey," he whispered back, meeting her gaze in the near-darkness. He put the television on mute to hear her every move, even her breath. It'd become one of his favorite things in the world; her breathing was a source of reassurance and he didn't want to think about the reason, nor did he want to think of when he'd become such a romantic.

She pushed his legs off the coffee table to move past him and sit next to him on the couch. She could've walked around the table, but she wanted to tease him, even then. Some things just didn't change. He didn't say a thing, placing his legs back where she found them and when she felt his gaze on her, she turned to face him. He had a tired face, bags under his eyes and wrinkles all over his face, maybe more than usual, and she could tell that she didn't look better herself. She noticed that he hadn't a lot of those vertical lines around his mouth and thought it was because he didn't smile a lot and it made her mood only darker. And it was one of those moments she wanted to tell him she loved him. Instead, she asked him if he'd eaten already, and he said he didn't as he shrugged and focused on the TV again.

"We eat together," he stated after a moment, feeling her gaze still on him.

She couldn't help but think about Lucas. He had never waited for her for dinner, even if she wasn't going to be that late. It hadn't bothered her that much, but she really appreciated the idea of someone waiting for her to come home and share dinner. They'd shared a stable relationship, but the kind of stability House provided her in her life was as unexpected as needed. He was different. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?" he wanted to know.

"The meeting lasted forever, for nothing. Their _ideas_ were crappy, and no solution was found. We'll have to meet again in two days in order to fix it, which means that _I_ will have to fix it. So I had to stay a couple hours more to try to figure it all. I guess you'll have to eat without me for the next two days, at least."

"You're too hard on yourself," he commented. "Where did you sign to fix their crap?"

She loved the warmth and depth of his voice.

"I guess it's somewhere in my contract," she sighed, letting her head fall on the back of the couch.

"The one in your head?"

She smiled tiredly at him. She knew he was right, but her job had been for a long time her sole companion and she needed a little more time to let go of it a little. Knowingly, he nodded and looked in front of him again, staring into the distance. They remained silent for a moment, and she loved those lazy evenings where they talked a little and stayed in complete silence afterward, appreciating each other's company. The thought led her to another one; she'd missed that in her relationship with Lucas. He'd never shown interest in what she'd have to say or he had felt the need to talk whenever they were silent for more than a minute. House knew how to appreciate silence, and, much to her surprise, how to be a good listener. Even if that night he was less present and that was why she'd been brief with her _daily report._ She'd sensed that something was wrong since she stepped inside the house, and his attitude only confirmed it. Still, he cared about how was her day.

''What's wrong?'' she asked him quietly.

A moment passed.

''Nothing.''

''Nothing isn't an answer. I prefer you saying you don't want to talk about it or... I don't know, maybe not with me. At least, it wouldn't be a lie.''

''I don't want to talk about it. With anyone.''

''OK. I... Sometimes I wish you trust me enough with _that_.''

''Can we not to talk about this either?''

She sighed. She hated it when he was like that and even more when she couldn't do anything to help.

"You hungry?" she eventually asked, eyeing him.

"I thought you'd never ask!" he exclaimed, standing up and heading to the kitchen, expecting her to follow. Which she did.

When she arrived in the room, she found him sitting on a chair, visibly waiting for her to make him diner. Leaning on the doorframe, she crossed her arms over her chest and defiantly eyed him, an eyebrow raised.

"Cook, woman," he urged her as she smirked.

"It's midnight, you're having leftovers," she told him, heading to the fridge and looking for something to eat.

"It's 11."

"Leftovers nevertheless," she said, placing a plate on the table and sitting on the chair across from him as he shrugged.

They ended up finishing the rests of lasagna she'd made the day before. There wasn't much left, so they ate in the same plate – which was barely full anyway. Silence filled the place once again, only the sound of raindrops falling onto the kitchen's window was audible. When they were done, minutes later, Cuddy busied herself by cleaning the table – putting the plate in the sink.

"Marina left late?" she wanted to know, leaning over the countertop, facing him. He was lost in thought when he heard her speak, drawing him out of his torpor. He shook his head negatively, and she wasn't sure it was only the response to her question.

"She was gone after I came back home. Actually, she kind of ran away. I understand her, your kid is a little capricious one. She made me read her a bedtime story. Do I look like a bedtime story-teller-kind-of-guy?" he said while making his way to the couch. In fact, the nanny had had an emergency, which was one of the reasons he left the hospital earlier despite the patient he had to cure. "She's so heavy too, the icing on the cake! Where did you find her?"

"In an abandoned house," she said, but not in a rough tone. She noticed he was doing the small talk to avoid the subject that bothered him, and she was okay with that. "Thank you," she said, sincerely. House taking care of Rachel always made things to her heart. Seeing the two people she cherished the most learning to accept each other filled her heart with happiness, even if House kept denying it. "I'll give you one or two hours off clinic duty for your _hard labor_ ," she teased, watching him try to find a comfortable position on the couch. "Speaking of which, I saw you in the ER today. Of your own will? I'm impressed." She sat down beside him, their bodies touching at places.

"I saw someone," he simply said. "Hannah's husband – you remember who Hannah is?" he added after a little pause.

"I do," she affirmed in a low voice. How could she forget?

"Well, he attempted to suicide," House said, and he tried his best not to show how that affected him in different ways. "He's devastated."

"It's never easy to lose someone we love," she commented. They feigned they weren't talking about them, too, a little.

"No," he agreed. "But he'll get over it, I guess. _"_

"Would you?"

"Wilson did," he protested.

"Everyone reacts differently, and I am asking you, not Wilson."

"Why? You planning to die any time soon?" he joked, moving slightly so she nestled against him, his arm around her shoulders.

"Hmm maybe," she murmured, distractedly caressing his abdomen underneath his white t-shirt.

"Don't you dare," he said, and she was shocked by how serious his tone was. She looked up at him, whispered a _'you too'_ before she kissed him lightly as he only shrugged.

"You still hungry?"

"Am not," he said, turning the sound of the TV on as the opening titles of a movie he liked began.

Cuddy nodded, got up and headed to the bedroom, telling him she'd wear something more comfortable and check on Rachel, leaving him to his movie – thoughts. She appeared in the living room again after that, finding her place against him. He let her regain her initial position, his grip on her a little tighter.

"She sleepin'?"

"Like the baby she is. She gave you a hard time?"

"Don't remind me. She kept asking for you."

Actually, Rachel had been a great distraction for him that afternoon. And for the first time, he had taken care of her willingly. And eventually, he's found out that he liked it.

"I know I should spend a little more time with you," Cuddy sighed, lifting her legs and curling them under herself.

"Just a little?" he pointed out.

"I'm sorry …" She looked up at him and let him kiss her lips for a second, reassuring her that he understood. They focused on the movie for the following half an hour. Although their _focus_ wasn't directed to the TV.

''You want to tell me about it?'' Cuddy asked gently, knowing that he too wasn't really watching the movie. It was one of those evenings when they were both helpless and tried to hold on to each other. It was a quiet and dark and cold evening.

'' 'Bout what?''

''Anything is that that's preoccupying you. Your meeting with Charlie, your patient, global warming, anything. '' She looked up and they did just that: they stared at each other and what their eyes said was beyond the words they could ever pronounce.

''My patient is my preoccupation number one,'' he said dismissively.

''Your patient is stable.''

''No.''

''No?''

''No. My patient is stable for _now._ I'm working on it.'' And she nodded, noticing that he didn't want to talk about his patient for now.

''What are you thinking about?'' Cuddy asked gently, sitting correctly on the couch after yet another moment of silence.

''I'll die before you anyway, considering how well I took care of my body.''

''Shut up,'' she ordered, her voice threatening to crack. She didn't allow herself to think about that and hearing him saying it out loud and the thought that maybe, that was what was going to happen, tore her apart.

''You asked me to tell you what was on my mind and now that I did, I have to shut up. Getting mixed signals here.''

''Let's reformulate. Don't ever say that again, or think like that to begin with.''

''I'm just being rational.''

''Well, then don't be.''

They stared at each other. He vaguely nodded and welcomed her lips on his as she drove them into a passionate and desperate embrace. She needed to feel that he was _alive._ They made the kiss last as long as their lungs allowed them, seeking the feeling of the other and the warmth the contact sent through them. It was overwhelming how the sole presence of the other comforted them. She pushed her tongue inside his mouth and stroked his, moving slowly at the rhythm of their bodies. He sucked at her bottom lip as they searched for air several minutes later, not wanting to break the contact already.

''You should go to sleep,'' he said softly when they completely pulled away.

''You're not coming? It's late,'' she stated.

''I'm right behind you.'' And she left for the bedroom.

He missed her presence as soon as she walked out of the room and thought that if Cuddy's absence wasn't permanent, some people had to live with the permanent missing of their loved ones. He was unable to imagine his daily life without her in it. And his short meeting with Hannah's husband revived the fear of losing her.

 _He'd seen her silhouette in the nurses' station, apparently dealing with some files Nurse Jeffrey had been showing her. His first intention had been to go annoy her for a moment before going back to work, but a familiar face had caught his attention before he'd made it to her._

 _''I'll handle it,'' he'd told the young doctor in the ER, gesturing to the man laying on the bed._

 _She'd informed him briefly about his state and went to help with another patient. Charlie's bleeding wrists hadn't been hard to deal with since he hadn't lost too much blood, thanks to a neighbour who had called an ambulance at the right time. House wasn't sure it'd be as easy concerning his mental state, however._

 _''It's not the smartest idea you had, man.''_

 _''I tried. I... Life is worthless without her in it.''_

 _''You're an idiot,'' House had called him._

" _Do you have a girlfriend?" he'd asked in return._

" _Yes." He'd pulled a chair and sat down beside his bed._

 _''How long?''_

 _''Five months,'' he'd told him. He'd felt he'd owed him a honest answer._

" _What would you do if something happened to her?" Charlie had asked him, not commenting on the last piece of information House had given him._

" _I would die without even trying to."_

 _''You're an idiot,'' he'd said, throwing his words back at him._

 _''I'm sorry.''_

 _He'd spent a whole hour in the exam room, listening to Charlie telling him how much he missed his wife and how she was and would be the love of his life._

 _''Do you know what it's like to wake up in the morning and wish you didn't because she's not laying beside you?'' he'd said, playing with the gold wedding ring he still wore._

Gold.

It wasn't a detail that helped his current situation, but it gave him the solution for the other puzzle he had to solve. His patient was being poisoned with gold, by ... His wife. He laughed bitterly at the irony as he got up. He had a call to make.

''Do what's necessary,'' he ordered his team, hanging up without waiting for an answer. He put the phone on the edge of the sink.

He met his reflection in the mirror, icy blue eyes staring right back at him.

And it all came back to the surface. Trenton. Hannah under the giant bloc of concrete. Hannah refusing amputation. His argument with Cuddy. Hannah being amputated. Hannah's gaze when her heart has suddenly stopped. Her last gaze. And what followed. Vicodin. Cuddy. And his recent encounter with Charlie. It both had been the most exhausting and emotionally draining day he's spent since he came back to Princeton.

 _Do you know what it's like to wake up in the morning and wish you didn't because she's not laying beside you?_

He didn't know. He _imagined_ it but he didn't know. And he didn't want to. The sole idea made him sick.

He looked up when he realized he'd lowered his gaze, lost in thought.

How he made it to the bedroom, he didn't know. Meeting the dead gaze of Cuddy instead of Hannah's in the mirror achieved draining any rational thought from his mind. And all he wanted now was to feel her heart beating.

He instinctively climbed on the bed, looking for her under the covers, startling her in the process.

''House, what...,'' Cuddy said in total confusion as he hid his face in her chest, wrapping tightly his hand around her waist.

''I'm cold.''

Only then, she realized that he was trembling. She didn't try to question him about what happened, only guessing the thoughts that were tormenting her man. Cuddy caressed his back, moving upward and downward in an attempt to soothe him.

''You...''

''Shh, I'm here,'' she whispered, her fingertips travelling down his cheek to his lips. She put a gentle kiss in his hair, bringing him closer to her.

His breathing became more regular, on the rhythm of her beating heart. She was _there._ He slightly eased his grip on her, adjusting his position but she stopped him, bringing his head to her chest again and ordering him to sleep. Their legs intertwined together as their bodies touched again, creating a more intimate contact.

He let sleep overtake him, only focusing on the sound of the rain outside, and, unconsciously, on her heartbeats, too. He never let his vulnerability show. And he knew that he'd deny everything in the morning but for now, he just needed her.


End file.
